A Moment in the Library
by history lady 24
Summary: A sweet but brief moment in the library between Sybil and Tom set during season one, sometime after he gave her the sufferage pamphlets and before the count. One shot only. Please note that Downton Abbey and characters are Julian Fellows - I just enjoy daydreaming about them!


The name was cleanly written in a strong, if plain, hand. _Tom Branson._ Checking quickly to make certain she was alone, Sybil reached out a tentative hand and brushed her finger across it in the library ledger. Her cheeks turned a pretty rosy pink as her finger lingered on the ink, not quite wanting to pull away and break contact with the page.

Her solitary trips to the library had begun several months before, when she first noticed that Branson's name began appearing in her father's lending ledger. At first she paid little attention to his selections, only noticing that his name appeared much more frequently than anyone else's, save her own and Lord Grantham's. After their discussion in the car one day about women's rights, though, when he gave her some pamphlets and told her that he shared her interests, she'd started to pay more attention to the books he took out.

At first she told herself that she was only curious to see if he'd read any of the books recommended in the pamphlets as "further reading". Not that her father's library contained many such books – liberal political theory and female suffrage were hardly the topics of interest to the generations of Grantham men who had worked to build the magnificent collection of books.

Soon, though, she found herself seeking out more and more of his selections, even those that ordinarily would have been of no interest to her. In the quiet stillness of the room she would sometimes run her finger along the spines of the books he had read, blushing at the thought that his own hand had warmed the same leather only days before. One evening, when she had taken a volume upstairs and was reading it in the warmth of her bed, late at night, it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps he had maybe once done the same. Suddenly the plain volume, made of paper, ink, and leather, seemed to burn in her hand as she tried to imagine him out of his uniform and in his - what did chauffer's sleep in, anyway? - lying on his bed in the private darkness of his cottage, reading late at night by the light of a small lamp. The thought was enough to make it very difficult for her to fall asleep that night.

As Lady Sybil stood there, her hand still resting on the page, it occurred to her that she had never heard anyone call Branson by his first name before. She had once asked him what it was one day in the car. He'd turned his head to the back and smiled slightly as he said it, amused perhaps that one of the daughters of the house cared to inquire. She remembered repeating it softly after him, and liking the way that it felt on her lips. _Tom. Tom Branson._ She wondered if he had heard the quiet smile in her tone as she said it. Perhaps the engine and the wind outside had hidden it from him.

As she looked down now, she found herself tracing over the name with her fingers, forming each letter slowly and deliberately. She was nearly to the end when the door creaked open. Looking up quickly to see who had caught her in this private moment, she bit her lip nervously and hoped the flush in her face would cool.

"Sybil, is that you? Mama wanted me to tell you that Granny is coming for tea today, and she wants us all in the drawing room at four o'clock precisely to receive her." Edith paused slightly just inside of the doorway and gave Sybil a confused look. "Are you well? You look a bit flushed?"

Sybil quickly cast her eyes down. "I'm, I'm fine. It is rather warm in here though, isn't it?" She cast her eyes towards the windows, afraid to look at Edith for fear she would blush more.

"Well personally I think it's rather drafty, but you know me. Always cold. I suppose I have Mama's American blood."

Sybil nodded, happy to have something else to discuss. "Yes, I suppose so." She sounded distracted and she knew it.

"What are you reading?" Edith gestured towards the ledger. "You seem to spend a lot of time in here these days."

The question was an innocent enough one, though Sybil still found herself unable to look her sister straight in the eye. She glanced down quickly and saw on the previous page that Tom had just recently returned a book about the history of London.

"I just finished one this morning, so I thought I'd come and just look around a bit. Sometimes I like to see what other people are reading to see if there's anything I've overlooked before." The words came out a little faster than normal. Trying to slow her pace, she turned to face the shelves again. "I was actually thinking about something about London, maybe. It might be nice to know more about the city before we go again for the season."

Sensing her sister might be dangerously close to embarking on a lecture about British history, Edith nodded her head and began to back out of the room. "Just mind that you don't get so caught up in it that you miss tea. You know that nothing angers Mama more than giving Granny a reason to find fault with her."

Sybil nodded her head once. "I'll be there, don't worry."

As Edith pulled the door shut it squeaked again. Sybil let out a sigh as the door's latch clicked into the doorframe. _I shouldn't feel guilty for reading the books in my own house!_ she thought. _I have as much of a right to be here as anyone else, as often as I want to!_

Within a moment she was lost in the volumes again, trying to find Tom's – _no, not Tom's –_ she corrected herself mentally – _Papa's - _book on London that Tom just happened to read that she didn't hear the door this time. She did hear a footstep, though, and thinking it was Edith again, sighed loudly and began to speak. "Really, can't I have a quiet moment to myself in here?"

"Alright, milady. Please pardon my interruption." The voice that answered was much deeper than she was expecting, and had a distinctly Irish lilt. Sybil gasped and looked up to see him start to pull the door closed again.

"No, wait! Tom – I mean Branson – I'm sorry! I thought you were my sister." His Christian name slipped out inadvertently. She cursed herself silently, wondering if he had heard through the partially closed door.

Her question was answered by the smiling blue eyes that met hers as the door swung back open. He was grinning at her, a cheeky look on his face as she blushed prettily. Yes, he had heard her call him by his proper name. From the look on his face, there was no doubt.

Despite her nervousness, Sybil found herself smiling timidly back at him. She never seemed to be able to not smile when Branson was around. _Another one of Mama's American traits showing up!_ she thought fleetingly.

"Shall I go or stay, then, milady?" He lifted an eyebrow as he said it. While he desperately wanted to stay, and could not quite believe his luck at having finally caught Sybil in the library on her own, he also knew that anyone passing might see them together and think it odd.

"Come in, please, if you like." The words were very soft. Branson found himself watching her lips as she spoke. _Such perfect, beautiful, pink lips…. _

Deciding that he would be a fool to waste the opportunity to spend a few quiet moments with Sybil in the semi-privacy of the library, he walked into the room, leaving the door half open behind him.

Her feet rooted in the ground, Sybil was still as Branson stopped next to her. She inadvertently closed her eyes as he stopped and stood next to her. He was careful to maintain a proper space between them, yet he was still close enough that she could smell his unique scent – leather, hair pompadour, and just the slightest hint of oil. She drew in a deep breath.

When she opened her eyes she found him watching her intently. After holding her gaze just a moment, though, he broke it and turned to face the books. "And what will you choose today, milady?" he said.

"There was a volume about London that I remember seeing somewhere in here that I think I will read next." The answer popped out before she could think of a convincing lie.

"Ah, London. I just read a rather interesting history of the city myself a few weeks ago. I believe it is up here on this shelf."

Sybil spotted the book the instant he gestured towards it. Without thinking she reached up for it, lifting herself onto her toes ever so slightly. At the exact same moment Branson moved to retrieve the volume for her. Their hands brushed against one another just in front of the shelf. She gasped softly and drew her hand down and behind her back. Her other hand snaked around behind her and held it tightly, willing the brief warmth she'd just felt to stay.

Branson watched her do it, and he felt his spirits drop as she tucked her hands behind her back. _I really should be more careful, _he told himself_. _ Disappointed at what he interpreted as her shame over their brief physical contact, he felt his chest deflate as he turned to hand her the book. Drawing his professional mask across his face, he turned and nodded his head slightly as he offered her the book.

"Will there be anything else, milady?"

Sybil blinked at the cold tone of his voice. "No, yes, thank you, Branson." _What had brought that look about? Surely he didn't think she would be ashamed that their hands… No. _She couldn't bear to think that he would interpret her reaction as shame. Embarrassment maybe, but not shame. God knows she wasn't sorry their hands had touched, though she could never admit something like that to him out loud.

Instead, she reached out to take it the volume from him. She moved her hand slowly towards it, feeling suddenly like she was watching the moment from above. As she reached to grasp it she stretched her fingers out, allowing them to gently graze his on the bottom side of the book.

Though neither of them actually saw the touch this time, both felt it. When Sybil looked up from the volume they were both still holding, fingers lightly touching, Branson's mask was gone and she read an admiration in his eyes that made her cheeks flush again. She found herself holding his gaze this time, too pleased at his expression to look away.

The moment shattered in a second when the door began to squeak again. Both of them took a large step back and managed to regain their normal composures just in time as Anna entered the room and, seeing Sybil, nodded her head. "The Countess asked me to come fetch you so you'll have time to freshen up before tea."

"Of course. I'll be right there, Anna."

Anna's gaze, though, was not on Sybil now, but on Branson. "Another trip to the library, Mr. Branson? I seem to see you in here frequently. Are you returning something or taking this time?" Anna often ran into Branson in the library when she was cleaning the room.

"Just returning something. And now it's back to the garage for me." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin blue volume. Turning to the ledger he quickly marked the book returned and went to place it back on the shelf. Sybil found herself watching him intently as he put replaced it on the proper shelf, which was very conveniently directly next to the ledger stand, at about waist level. "Milady." He turned and gave her a quick smile before stepping past Anna to exit the room.

Sybil watched him leave the room and looked down at the book in her hands. Stepping to the ledger she picked up the pen – the same he had been holding a moment before, which was still slightly warm from his grip – and quickly signed her name.

Looking up at Anna, Sybil took a step closer to the shelves. "We should go as well. Musn't keep Mama and Granny waiting."

"Yes milady." Anna turned and walked out of the room. She never noticed the second book in Lady Sybil's hand until later that night when she was turning down Sybil's bed and noticed two volumes, one thick with gold lettering on the spine, the other thin and blue, sitting on her bedside table.


End file.
